


Routine

by bright73



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-07
Updated: 2007-07-07
Packaged: 2017-10-20 14:16:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/213654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bright73/pseuds/bright73
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look into the everyday, out of work life of the wanna-be macho males.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Routine

Warrick growled when he finally signed the last document, with a penmanship that would drive anyone trying to figure out whose signature it was, up the wall. The take-out he'd had Hodges bring in the middle of shift had been forgotten as soon as he'd figured out he'd been had by the puppy-eyed CSI begging him to take care of the paper-work. The sorry bread-roll had long since become cold and all but tempting. The lettuce now seemed from weeks past and he sighed at the sight. He was so ready to drive right home and push Nick up the wall and chew him down for tricking him into this. “A couple of documents only”, the droopy eyed Texan had promised. “It'll take you half an hour at most.” And that was 150 minutes ago.

So yes, Nick had pulled a double, most of it in a creek, digging for possible human remains, while he had been in the bloodied house, searching for a possible murder-weapon and trace on scattered clothes until he returned to the lab and started digging up personal data on the family members of the missing husband. That didn't excuse a thing since it was Nick's chicken-scratch he had to read and interpret in order to be able to sign with a clear conscience. And yes, he had melted from the deep wrinkles around his man's eyes, the tired slope of his shoulders and the dimples forming when the man ducked his head and flared off the patented smile of one fucking Nicholas Stokes. Warrick had suspected the was being conned and still he had nodded and told Nick to go home and rest.

Impatiently he stuffed the documents into the different binders and snapped them closed. The frazzled plastic bag with the sorry sandwich sailed across the room and hit the trash can after a perfect arc in the air. He grinned; he was still cool and had a perfect aim. Not even his soft spot could take that away from him, even if it was becoming softer and softer as years rolled by. Which was really funny, he mused while walking to the front desk to leave the binders to be picked up by the DA. Because as he seemed to become softer, the person that had exposed his soft spot and brought it to the surface, seemed to become harder and more jaded. It did worry Warrick occasionally. That hard glint of rage that would flash over his lover's face, only to disappear so fast that it wasn't even recognized if you didn't know the man really well. And lately Warrick had the feeling that Nick was hiding more and more of himself from the team. But Warrick noted and every time the vulnerability was covered up with hints of aggression, he recognized himself in Nick and his heart twitched. At the same time he was calmed with the knowledge that Nick would pull through almost anything that was thrown at him. And why was he musing over Nick Stokes' well-being when he should be royally pissed off with the man?

The locker room was empty and he was relieved he wouldn't expected to chit-chat with anybody when all he wanted was to get home and check up on Nick. Then he'd read him the riot act for conning him.

The moment the thought manifested itself he wanted to groan. Was this what had become of Warrick Brown? A mother-hen?

He slammed the door shut and grit his teeth. Nick was so gonna get it for doing this to him. Not only had he tricked him into doing paper-work, but now he had him fussing about getting home and checking up on him? A man in his thirties and in full health? Of course, he had looked really worn out, maybe --

Warrick cursed himself silently as he walked out to his truck. This simply had to stop, all this fretting and wondering and fucking down-right mothering a grown man just drove him nuts. That simply was not him! Nick was more than capable of taking care of himself, and had shown it over and over again. Would probably take him out and spank him if he ever figured out that Warrick had this very girly side to him. A side that he had to combat on a regular basis when it came to Nick, and only Nick. That was the fact that bothered Warrick the most.

Then he stared at the cell in his hand; he hadn't just called Nick's favorite Mexican food joint and ordered, had he? The greasy enchiladas that Nick loved? Man! He looked down at his gut which had undoubtedly increased since the divorce and his moving in with Nick. He swore out loud this time and started the truck. It was simply the tiredness that had him do these things as if on auto-pilot, he explained to himself. No way was it that he ordered food just because he was a sentimental love-stuck mother-hen that wanted to make sure Nick ate. If that was who he'd become, he needed a swift kick in the butt to go check where he'd lost his cool.

 

 

The house was quiet when he walked in and toed off his shoes. The only thing he heard was a murmur from the TV in the living room. He inhaled and straightened his back to be duly prepared to start the chow down of the man that had tricked him into overtime. The sight that met him had the words die out unspoken and a grin form on his lips. Stifling a chuckle he walked up to look at the scene.

Nick was fast asleep, head bent slightly forward, bare feet on the coffee-table, a snug black tee hugging the slumped form. A sliver of skin visible between the crumpled up tee and an old issue of the JFS in his lap. The loose sweatpants riding low on the hips of the man that seemed melted into the couch.

Warrick set the take-out box on the table, smiling at the picture before him. Normally Nick would jump at any unexpected sound but it seemed that he had somehow subconsciously registered the sound of Warrick's steps and deemed them secure enough to not set of any alarm. It wasn't the first time Warrick snuck up on a sleeping Nick without causing even a single jolt. He'd seen Nick almost jump out of his skin at sounds that were not expected, which was totally understandable, knowing the history of the man. He tried to ignore the tug on his heart at the thought of being labeled safe by Nick's subconscious. The warmth that spread from the very roots of his bleeding heart had him turn and walk over to the bathroom; he'd just take a swift shower and then wake the man up and get some food into him before he dragged his fat ass to bed to get some sleep in a decent position.

His intention had been a short, effective shower to get rid of the lab-dust. But when he opened the door he was assaulted by the scent of Nick's shower-gel and he groaned. Once he had made the mistake of using Nick's soap before going on shift. It had resulted in Cath sniffing him with obvious suspicion and himself being hard half the shift. The cinnamon-lemony scent was so Nick that he hadn't been able to get the man off his mind for twelve hours straight. It had been hell and they were not even working the same case. Being stuck with a curious Catherine Willows had not helped matters. She had asked innocent questions about shower-gels preferred by men and the whys thereof. Her smugness had not gone unnoticed and the moment Warrick got home, he pinned Nick to the wall and went down on him like a starving man. Licking him all over, nuzzling his neck and literally nesting in the scent of fucking-tease-Stokes. Nick had looked perfectly happy at the impromptu assault, upping the ante until they'd almost broken the couch in their hurry to get on with it. They'd had to fixate the armrest from underneath with a couple of longs screws.

 

Now that same scent wafted over in a moist embrace and he was hard in an instant. Pulling his clothes off, he tried to steer his thoughts away from Nick. Images of hot skin, flexing muscles and the spot right behind the ear that had Nick growl deep in his throat taunted him mercilessly. He glared at his rebelling equipment and flicked the water on, letting it cool until it almost stung his fingers with its coldness. He held his breath and stepped in under the spray. The cold hit him and forced the air out of him. Closing his eyes he let the water rinse his face and take the arousal with it. He was old enough to combat this, damn it! His teenage days with constant hard-ons were so over. Like a life-time ago and now he had the command, he wasn't hormone ridden and lusty, he was in full control. Soaping himself in, he stayed under the ice-cold water and waited until his teeth started clattering. Closing the off the water he stepped out, with a victorious grin. Not even nature won over Warrick Brown when he set his mind to it. Of that he was fairly sure. The fact that moving in with Nick had doubled, if not tripled, his cold showers was purely incidental.

When he got out and made a byline for the bedroom to pick up some sweatpants and a tank top and flick on the A/C before he'd get the meal organized. The draft from the A/C pulled the door shut harder than he had intended and the bang was enough to cause a stir in the living room. The hitched breath and the sound of the journal landing on the floor told him that he had startled Nick awake. “Yo, man!” he called out to let him know that all was safe and he wasn't being stalked or anything.

There was only an indecipherable string of mumbles coming from the living room and he grinned when he stepped into the room, watching a very disoriented man try to re-assemble himself.. “Aww shucks, baby, did I interrupt your beauty sleep?”

The couch seemed to let out a sigh when Nick rose and padded towards him.

“Wasn't sleepin'.” Nick stopped, mid-stride in the middle of the floor, his lower lip protruded in a very childish manner when he rubbed his eyes.

Warrick laughed. “Just restin' your eyes, right?”

Nick's pout was still visible, despite the rubbing of his eyes with the heels of his hands.  
Warrick shook his head with amusement and walked up behind the man, gripping the hips and pushing him towards the kitchen. Snatching the take-out bag along as he went. “You havin' a cuteness attack, Nicky?” The chuckle escaped him at the sight of the ambling man.

Nick blinked and turned his head to look at him, brow creased in utter confusion while allowing himself to be steered onwards. “Uhn?”

Warrick simply hated the adorable picture Nick made and threw his arm around him in a bear-hug. There was no fairness in the world when a grown man could look so puppyish in his sullen, newly woken-up state. It played havoc with his heart and he was not having it. “ Y'know you're in deep, right Stokes!”

Nick's hands slid down and he blinked innocently, stumbling on the edge of the carpet. “Wha-?”

“A coupl'a documents? You'll be done in half an hour.” His tone was dry when he repeated the plea. “That was two entire dossiers of chicken scratches, Nick! Took me forever and you're so gonna pay. Don't make conning me into doing your work into some routine man, you're gonna regret it when pay-up time comes.”

“Wha-?” Nick freed himself from the hold, stepped back and tilted his head to the side in the characteristic 'aw shuck'-manner. “Hold on a minute, I told you to fix the documents for the Reynolds case, not the entire stack!”

Warrick's brow creased in confusion. “You didn't!”

Nick's dimples deepened when he tried to stifle the laughter. “You signed them all? I told you, man. Where was your head at?” Finally Nick couldn't help himself but chuckled, boxing Warrick's arm playfully. “Thanks man! Now I know how to make you cave to any request. I just gotta ask while you're occupied - ogling Hodges.”

Warrick growled when the man turned and walked into the kitchen. So he had been looking at Hodges, but only because the techs eyes had somehow become glued to Nick's ass. “And here I go out of my way get some take-out,” he gruffed, following the man.

“I noticed,” Nick laughed. “But damn it man, it's Thursday.”

“So?” Warrick asked, placing the bag on the counter.

Nick wiped his nose and opened the micro-wave to show the content. “I already got your goodies for you. I go grocery shopping every Thursday. You gotta stop dreaming about Hodges, Warr. It's messin' with your head.”

Warrick was about to wrestle an excuse out of the Texan tease, when he stopped, with his arms firmly planted around the shorter man's waist. “We have routines?”

“We've had routines since the second week you moved in, Rick. Nuke 'em man, you're closer.”

Warrick reached out a hand and punched the preprogrammed button. “We have routines and the micro preprogrammed, man. This is beyond dating, this is a fucking marriage!”

“Now, hold on a minute, Warr. We never actually dated!”

Nick pouted and Warrick pressed him up against the counter, grinning. “Want me to get down on my knees and ask you out?”

 

“I'd much prefer you let go and let me get some plates,” Nick puffed. “I'm starved.”

“Oh yeah?” Warrick purred against the neck.

“For food, you maniac,” Nick grinned and kissed the tip of his nose.

That was enough of a startle for Warrick to let the man go. All those little touches that Nick bestowed unexpectedly always managed to jar him. The man had a thousand touches, all different, all jabbing at his heart like nothing else. That little innocent peck spoke not only of playfulness, but of complete trust and love of a kind that Warrick thought he'd never encounter. The thing with Nick was that he never really asked for anything from Warrick; he was the one that gave all his heart and that made Warrick ready to give up everything for the man. He couldn't remember ever having a relationship like that, so easy and trusting. Sure they fought and grated each others nerves, but underneath that all laid a certainty that everything was all right, in its place and safe. There was a mutual respect that had Warrick totally at ease with Nick; nothing needed to be proved for real, there was no need for him to be in constant control or watching out for backstabbing or ridicule. All the power-play they engaged in was based on the knowledge that they really were equal and were able to play around without ever really losing anything. Except an occasional bill of twenty, or two.

Warrick smiled when he bent down to get the plates out of the cupboard, shaking his head at Nick and his fucking obsession with setting the table. Like the food wouldn't taste just as good straight out of the paper-bag.

The slap to his ass and the growled 'Don't even think it', had him smile even broader.

“It's anal, bro. Admit it.”

Nick glared, posing the cutlery and glasses on the table. “Why don't we just dig a hole outside and start eating off the ground. We can drag a couple of rotting corpses out there and it's like we've never left work at all.”

“Oh that's it?” Warrick peeked under his brow at the man fetching the nuked enchiladas. “You're nesting!”

“I'm what?” Nick stopped in the middle of the floor, bag dangling from his fingers until the heat got the better of him and he grimaced at tossed it onto the table. “Ouch!”

“Poor baby,” Warrick taunted and opened the pack to let steam out. “I'll pop you one if you over-cooked 'em again. Makes 'em all soggy.”

Nick threw his arms up in the air and turned to get the beers out of the fridge. “So not nesting, man. If I'd let you, you'd be sitting on the curb and eating burgers out of the wrappers every day, just to spare on the dishes. Laziness, Warr, that' what it's all about, I've got you pegged.” He turned, both hands occupied with bottles, and shut the fridge door with a precisely measured hump of the deliciously toned ass.

Warrick took two long steps and placed himself right in front of the pouting man. “Excuse me, for wanting to spend my time more efficiently.” He grinned at the shorter man, trapped between him and the fridge. Loving the body-heat and scent, radiating off his man.

Nick looked up at him, poking him in his ribs to have him move out of the way.

Warrick pressed him up to the door just too feel the muscled body move against his. “I'd rather have some make-out sessions on the couch than loading the dishwasher.” Speaking softly into Nick's ear, he licked the earlobe to get his point across.

Nick shifted and pressed his leg in between Warrick's. “You're not playing fair, man. My hands are occupied.”

“Hodges was checking out your ass,” Warrick mumbled disapprovingly into the ear, leaning more of his weight on the shorter man.

Nick sniggered. “Good thing you didn't catch us the time we were comparing waists.”

Warrick pulled away enough to rest his forehead on Nick's and glare. “You what? When?”

The bottles clinked happily behind his back when Nick wrapped strong arms around his middle. “Wouldn't you like to know,” Nick grinned and flicked his tongue along Warrick's bottom lip.

“You fucking tease,” Warrick moaned and suckled the playing tongue into his mouth. The warm, wet and lustful duel had him hard all over and he mentally cursed himself for being dragged into this play. His man's kisses were like a match to the fuse, he knew that and still he was unable to resist. His fingers crept up to play with the muscular neck, pressing Nick tighter to himself and moaning when he felt the burgeoning arousal against his upper thigh. He stumbled backwards until the table hit his legs and he leaned heavily on it, letting Nick free his hands before he let his own wander in under the black, snug tee. “You're fucking killing me, Stokes.”

Nick's hand pulled at the waistband of Warrick's sweatpants and his tongue attacked the half-open lips of his main man without mercy. The onslaught was too much and with a guttural groan, Warrick pulled the man flush to his body.

The kitchen table skidded over the floor, making Nick huff into the kiss and pull out his hands to flail for support. Warrick tried to straighten himself up and not land on his ass on the hard floor when a crash finally had them disentangle.

They looked at the mess; one thoroughly broken plate and glass-splinters, happily reflecting the sunlight, spread over the tiled floor. Nick mumbled something rather obscene under his breath and boxed Warrick's shoulder. Warrick groaned at the sight and added another point to his growing list of why not to bother setting the table.

“Damn,” Warrick cursed, reaching out a hand to stop Nick from walking into the shards. “You nuts man? Step back!”

“Oh, trap it and let me tidy up your fricken mess.” Nick pushed Warrick back and went to work with the broom and dustpan.

“My mess?” Warrick's eyebrows arched. “What I tell you about plates and glasses? More work's all they're gonna give you. And don't walk on the splinters man! This'll end in me having to take you to the ER and having to explain to Grissom that we're really not into walking on glass in our spare-time just for the heck of it. Ow shit!” The tell tale prick under his left toe had him stumble backwards.

The second crash came when he flung himself onto the kitchen chair. The glass having hovered on the edge connected with the tiles and the yelp from Nick had Warrick back up on his feet, ready to grab the man and steady him in order to stop him from causing ulterior damage to his feet amidst the pulverized glass.

“Nick?” Looking at his man's right foot, he cringed at the scratch and the shred of glass sticking out from between the toes. “Shit, Nick!”

Nick unceremoniously bent down and plucked away the piece. Turning to Warrick with the piece still between his fingers, his brow creased while he seemed to mull something over. “Damned Rick, you might have a point about the plates.”

Warrick couldn't help the scoffed laughter that escaped him.

 

 

Four band-aids later they took the bag into the living room and sank into the couch with heavy sighs. The enchiladas were definitely cold by then by neither mentioned it as they let their teeth sink into them while watching the news.

Warrick's eyes wandered to the left, noting Nick dig in with the sauce running down his fingers and the damned man happily licking it up. Taking a large bite of his own, slightly soggy breakfast, he tried to suppress the need to lean over and lick certain fingers himself. Nick moved to get the bottle off the table, managing to sink back even closer than before. Warrick swallowed and reached out for the bottle in Nick's hand. The heavily seasoned enchilada burned his tongue.

“See? No fancy equipment an' it works just fine.” With a content sigh he sank further back, leaning in on Nick.

“Your sense o romance is appalling, Rick,” Nick mumbled before gulping down the last bit and flicking his fingers to be handed the bottle.

“Your toes look mighty cute with them band-aids, Nicky. That romantic enough for you?” Warrick taunted.

“I'm givin' you nothin' for a week for that crappy line, man.” Nick chuckled.

“You won't last that long, Stokes.” Warrick let his arm slip around the shorter man's shoulders.

“Yeah? I'll just have to woo Hodges then, Warr.”

The amused smile went straight to his fucking groan and he leaned in closer, tightening the grip on the shoulders and licked a trail down the neck. “Watch it man!”

“Or maybe Greg's had a dry spell and is interested? What'cha think Rick? Wanna bet on which one I get laid first?” Innocently wide-eyed Nick licked his lower lip and rested his palm just above Warrick's knee.

Nick was barely able to keep from laughing at the growl and Warrick knew he'd been had. All over again. He should know better than to walk out on that mined field, but dammit if he was able to keep his mouth shut when he needed to.

“You think I'd make Hodges beg and scream. Rick?” Nick continued, the voice a low chuckle and that was enough to make mental images of his man and Hodges tumble around in bed, pop into Warrick's mind Hodges with that same look as he'd had when Warrick caught him ogling Nick's ass; ado-fucking-ration.

His lips were on Nick's neck in an instance, marking him.

“Hey!” Nick pushed at him. Laughing heartily. “My sign of single-hood is not to be demolished by a fricken sucker.”

“Baby, the bed with me in it is the only 'hood' you can even dream about, you fucking tease!”

Nick made a rolling motion and slid down off the couch. “Not without some romancin', Warr. Somethin' real girly that I can use as collateral when needed. ”

Warrick was already on the floor, crawling up to and over Nick. “You have a crueler streak than most, Stokes.” He went for the dive and his hand slipped and he ended up hitting his head on the coffee-table.

The curse was muffled by Nick's arms coming up to embrace and pull him down. “Shit, Rick? Com'ere honey. That had to hurt!”

Warrick wanted to laugh in midst of the pain because they would probably never be more girly than this. But the bump of the head was stinging.

“Rick? You all right, man?”

He pressed his temple to Nick's shoulder and nodded against it. The odd thing being that he really was, lying on Nick's chest, held in his arms and being slowly rocked while Nick's fingers lay solid against his neck, warm and comforting.

“Lemme see, Rick. You're not bleeding, are yah? Damn man, maybe we'll have to take the trip to the ER after all?”

“Shut up, Stokes,” Warrick mumbled but felt no need to move. It felt good right here and the pain was vanishing fast. He was probably crushing the man under him but Nick said nothing, just continued the slow rocking movement. And Warrick felt totally exposed and safe, despite the blaring girlyness of the moment. He lifted his head and looked into the concerned eyes of his man. “Just shut the fuck up and kiss me. And that's the most o' girlyness you'll ever get outta me.”

Nick chuckled softly and planted a chaste kiss on his lips. “I gotta get you to bed Warr, you're rambling. C'mon boss! I need to check that head o' yours and bed you down.”

“The hell,“ Warrick scowled and planted a serious one on Nick instead. A seriously long, wet and deep one that had Nick moaning into it at the end. Victoriously Warrick grinned at the flushed face. ”Nuff o' romancin', Nicky?”

“You're concussed man,” Nick panted and and wriggled to slide out from under him. “You just hit your head, you can't be horny all over. You on Viagra or som'thin`?” The brown eyes were like liquid chocolate and Warrick couldn't help licking his lips in anticipation of making the man under him melt all over.

“Nope, “ Warrick said with an evil grin. “But I plan to be on Nick Stokes.”

Nick rolled them over and pinned him to the floor, shaking his head before he freed himself and stood up, wrapping his arms around Warrick's middle and pulling him to his feet. Warrick followed willingly.

“Horndog,” Nick mumbled when he steered the taller man to the bedroom. Sliding his sweatpants and boxers down with one swift move before he eased the tank-top over his head and motioned at the bed. “Get in.”

“Fucking puppy-eyed tease,” Warrick shot back, gripping his man's wrist and trying to pull him into bed while he settled under the sheets.

“Uh uh,” Nick shook his head. “I'm getting you an ice-pack for that head of yours. Don't wanna be accused of wife-beating.”

“Hey!” Warrick was half up from the bed to try and stop the man that was on his way to the kitchen. “I'm fine, dammit. Get to bed and right now!”

“Piss me off and I'll put the ice-bag where you really don't want it,” Nick declared from behind the door.

Warrick let his head fall to the pillow, he didn't doubt for one second that Nick really would pull a stunt like that. Maybe he'd be able to fight the man off for a little while, but the damned Texan was a sneaky son of a gun at times and held no qualms in tormenting the life out of him. Only thing he could do was glare when the man appeared with the ice-bag. “I so hate you Stokes!”

“Roll over and let me see,” Nick ordered, making an impatient gesture with his hand.

Warrick leered. “Which part are you most interested in?”

The growl was answer enough and Warrick knew Nick would not give in before he had checked him out. “C'mon baby,” he pleaded, turning his head for Nick to see that there was nothing. “Come to bed already, you're killing me here!”

Nick pulled the sweats and the tee off before he sat down on the bed with the ice-pack ready. His fingers investigated Warrick's scalp in a way that had his spine curve in pleasure. The fingertips massaging and teasing, sending darts of pleasure right to his groin. The moan he let out turned into a hissed exhale when the cold landed on his head. “This your idea of romancin' Nicky?”

“I'm not romancin' a concussed, Warr!” Nick climbed over him and settled, pressed up against his back.

The contrast was delicious; the cold keeping him from over-heating on the spot and the strong, muscled body with a scent that enveloped him like an aphrodisiac. He soaked it all up, sniffing the essence of his man, arching into the warmth while fingering the smooth skin at his reach. “You're gonna hafta move that ice-pack south if you don't intend to fuck me into the mattress, Stokes.”

“Shut up and go to sleep, you're outta your head.”

Warrick grinned at the strain in Nick's voice and the erection he felt hardening against the small of his back. Nick's tried to move further away and hide the evidence, which Warrick simply would not have. And the ice-pack seemed to have lost its cooling effect. He rolled to face the man driving his libido to the stratosphere and nestled his leg between Nick's. The investigative eyes steadily met with his own in a query and narrowed when a pout of protest emerged. But Warrick did not give one damn. He wanted this heat provoking in him, on him and around him. The lips were soft and moist, calling out to him and his hands curved around Nick's globes. While his starved tongue softly probed for entrance, he inched the briefs down the strong legs and closed his eyes with a moan when he was welcomed inside the wet heat.

 

The sultry and deep kisses were something of the most intimate they shared.. Warrick felt the the tip of Nick's tongue glide over his teeth, felt the warm sensation of their closeness trickle down his spine and settle around his heart. Soft exhales wafting over his skin aroused him more than he was willing to admit. Nobody had ever kissed him like Nick did. It was enough to make him come if and he break the kiss to nip at the skin on the neck and let his hands roam over the sculpted body in his hold. Nick moved to line up their erections and ground their bodies together. The rhythmical moves had Warrick grit his teeth in exasperation. “Jesus baby, just fuck me or kill me!”

Nick laughed softly and scooted down Warrick's body, a trail of nips and kisses in his wake.

“Uh uh,” Warrick groaned, gripping the neck of the descending man hard. “A blow-job's not gonna cut it, man. I need your cock up my ass and I need it now! You don't hafta move even, I'll do the work, just fucking get inside o' me!”

“You don't even like bottoming, Warr.” Nick shook his head and went back to licking and nipping the pert nipples.

“What the fuck?” Warrick's eyes almost popped out from the statement. True, Nick was the only man he had let top him since his cherry was popped. But he had been young then, and inexperienced and the lover had obviously not been skilled, or cared, enough because he had never gotten off on it. He hadn't let anyone else top him until Nick's fingers played him till his body literally screamed to be fucked. Nick had finally showed him what bottoming should be like; allowing him the sensations that he'd just heard about, but never experienced. Nick's tight control and the care he took in taking him made all the difference. Being possessed by Nick was a lecture in complete trust without an ounce of control. That was something Warrick rarely experienced anywhere in life. Just with filling him up, touching his very core and bringing him to a failing, babbling and totally incoherent state of bliss, he rid Warrick of all shields. And that was the only reason he didn't make Nick top him more often; the impact of his blinding need was too overwhelming. He was still not quite able to wrap his head around the fact that he, Warrick Brown, turned into a babbling, drooling mass of nerve-endings when his man lovingly fucked him into the mattress.

Moving to wrap his legs around his man, he rolled him on top of himself. “Nicky, baby, you think I'm bottoming to make you happy?”

Nick tried to silence him with a kiss while he wiggled to get out of the strong hold.

Warrick cupped his man's jaw and forced him to meet with his eyes. “Nick, fuck! You think I want to be degraded to a panting begging fool? Because that's what you're doing right now! I want you to fuck me because dammit man, you're the only one that's had me come like I come when you're inside of me. An' pardon the mush and get on with it already. Or just lay down on your back and I'll go down on you by myself.” He reached for the nightstand to get the lube, growling when he didn't reach far enough.

Nick reached out and managed to snatch the tube. “You sure about this, Rick?”

“Shut that damned trap, man and hand me the lube before I spontaneously combust!”

“So desperate,” Nick mumbled and lubed up his fingers.

“Damned right baby,” Warrick panted when Nick's index finger slowly probed him open. “Don't take all night Nicky, I'm all ready – aw shit!” The moist heat around his nipple had him fight for control. What he wanted was to come with Nick buried deep in him, skin against skin and hearts pumping in synchrony. Trusting against the finger he signaled that he was not only ready for more, he was damned near ready to flip the man over and take what he needed if it wasn't offered.

“Nick, don't make me come alone, dammit. Not like this!” Wrapping his legs tighter around the man, he pulled him closer, begging hoarsely with a series of desperate 'c'mon's falling off his lips like a mantra.

Nick's body tensed when he positioned himself to finally push inside.

The first burn was over in an instance and the sensation of being filled had him grab Nick's neck and hold on while he closed his eyes and took in the weight pinning him down and owning him. Nick didn't move, just stayed there and let Warrick get used to the girth. It wasn't until Warrick impatiently thrust up against him that he relented and finally moved.

Warrick tried to keep quiet, tried really hard but the sight of Nick's muscles moving, the skin gleaming and the soft sounds that escaped him when he locked his eyes with Warrick and set the slow pace was his undoing. The friction of the hot skin, the tendons on the forearms standing out from the weight Nick put on them with his movements, was simply too much. To shut himself up he did the only thing possible and licked the tensed arms at his reach. His concentrations was elsewhere but he managed to let his tongue follow the line of the bicep from the elbow up to the shoulder, where he paused and nipped at the taut skin and raked his nails up over the working hips and along the spine until he gripped Nick's neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

And that's when he short-circuited.

There was nothing else than Nick moving inside of him, hitting the spot over and over again and stroking his cock between their abdomens with every measured thrust. And Warrick knew that Nick was looking at him, taking in every sound he made and regulating his movements to give the most pleasure possible. The fact that Nick was controlled enough to do so both pissed Warrick off and had his libido breach the barrier for coherency. Time ceased to exist, all there was was the precarious balance on the edge of resting in this spiraling ecstasy and letting go to fall into the tidal wave that wrung every thought out of his already fried brain. And he wasn't the one to control it; Nick would see and feel when it was time for him to take the dive, he'd see to it that he was good and ready to let go before he tipped him over the edge and held on while he fell.

The moment Warrick reached out and pulled Nick down to his chest and tensed around him, the rhythm changed and became more insistent. A wet, deep kiss and Warrick was floating on the wave; heart-beats loud in his ear, the blood pumping in his veins when he coated them with the hot release. He mumbled curses and declarations of love in a breathless keening sound that broke into outright praying when he felt Nick's body tense and felt him bury himself deep before letting go.

With his nose in the crook of Nick's neck he breathed his man in, filling his lungs with the scent of their combined release. Nick's name fell off his lips in heavy pants until his body was spent and he had to let go of his grip around the waist of his man and let his fingers press Nick's hips to his. Too wrung out for rational thought or words, he just let the legs slide down over Nick's thighs, and come to rest crossed over the man's calves.

“Nicky, shit, baby, fuckin' love yah man.” He laughed at his own strained voice that seemed unable to stop the mixture of curses and pleads that slipped out of him and wafted over the sweaty skin on Nick's neck. “Shit,” he declared for emphasis and pressed his face to the hot skin. Still trembling in an absolutely ridiculous manner.

Nick chuckled drowsily, shaking his head at the litany before rose to lean on his elbows; brown eyes taking in and assuring his lover's well-being. A lover that promptly rolled his eyes at the usual visual check-up. A grin dimpled the flushed face and he bent down to kiss Warrick's lips while pulling out Warrick pinched the ass in retaliation; he enjoyed having Nick stay inside, enjoyed feeling him there but Nick always pulled out as if in fear of crushing a man with plenty of pounds on him.

Nick tried to climb out of bed and Warrick simply rolled over to his side and threw his arms around his waist and pulled him back. This notion that he simply had to get a towel and clean them up was silly and a typical anal trait that Warrick had decided simply had to stop. “Uh uh,” he mumbled. “T'is the penalty for fucking neat-freaks.”

Luckily the man was too tired to fight him on it and he just huffed in protest before he was pulled with his back to lean on Warrick's sweaty chest.

“Ice-pack needs to be in the freezer,” Nick weakly pointed out.

“So anal,” Warrick retorted and nuzzled the sweaty neck.

“Cheap shot,” came the drawl in their usual verbal combat after every heated encounter.

Warrick grinned and decided to rattle the man. “I love you, you fucking anal, table-setting-obsessed, man.”

Nick had absolutely nothing to say to that but laughed softly into the pillow.

Warrick let his palm trail along the lax arm, His heart literally skipped a beat when he noticed the scratches on Nick's upper arms. Letting his eyes roam along the body he noted the dark bruises on Nick's hip as well. Bruises that he had left. The post-coital bliss turned into ice-cold repent His fingers trailed the oval shapes of his nails having buried into the tender skin. Shit, shit, shit!

This was exactly why he shouldn't ask Nick to top. He'd unwillingly leave marks on a body he loved, and Nick had never asked for that. He swallowed convulsively at the realization.

“What's wrong Rick?” Nick rolled over to his back and Warrick was unable to meet with his eyes. He'd scratched Nick up before, left ugly red welts on his body and that was something he absolutely hated. “I'm sorry Nick. I shouldn't ask for you to - shit man, I'm sorry!”

“What the -? You trippin' on me, man?”

Warrick draped his body around the shorter man, shaking his head against the shoulder. “No, just – no.”

“Warr, you're actually making absolutely no sense whatsoever. No, what?”

“Shhh, baby, go to sleep.” All he could do was rock the man as best he could. Rock him and hope the scratches he'd left wouldn't leave scars. What the fuck kind of an animal was he to hurt the man he loved? “Not gonna happen again, baby, no more.”

Nick moved out of his grip and sat up. “What the fuck is wrong with you Warrick?” He sounded genuinely distressed.

Without a word Warrick rose to sit across Nick and let his fingers trail along one particularly nasty scratch that he noticed running along the man's side. “Feel that? That's what's wrong. Nick, how the fuck did you let me hurt you? Fuck you man, don't do that! You're never topping me again, not ever!”

Nick's reaction was immediate and he managed to topple Warrick over in a heart-beat. He fell on his ass and stared up at Nick's hurt expression. With a hard grip on Warrick's neck he shook his head. “You think I'd let you hurt me? You think I'm too weak to stop that from happening?”

The tables had turned so fast that Warrick was left staring at his man in utter confusion. “What? I didn't mean – no, not that - Nick, what the fuck?”

Nick's eyes narrowed, and the dangerous glint actually took Warrick's breath before it disappeared just as quickly as it had manifested. “What does it take to convince the lot of you that I can take care of myself? I've had worse scratches from cats.”

“The lot of you? It's only me here and I scratched you up. It's not gonna happen again.” Damn, the grip around his neck was like steel. “Nick?”

“Why do you get to decide?”

The cold control amidst the anger was jarring Warrick. He wasn't afraid, at least not to get physically hurt. What scared him was how easily Nick shut down all emotions. The man hovering in front of him was still Nick and yet not. That icy control was all new.

“I'm not gonna hurt you again, Nick.” He met with the steely gaze, shaking his head. “Just not gonna happen.”

“Warrick, I decide what hurts me, not you. Get it?” The eyes had softened and Warrick was more than bewildered.

“You're not made of steel, Nicky. And the signs are right there. On your skin.”

“Warr, a scratch is nothing. A love-bite is nothing and I decide when to say stop. I'm capable of that. Whether you believe it or not.” The grip on Warrick's neck disappeared and Nick let his eyes drop. “Don't take that away from me because you think I cant' handle it and you still want it. That's just stupid.”

“Sometimes you scare the shit out of me, Nicky, “ Warrick spoke softly.

“Huh?” Nick sat down and his brow creased in confusion. “I didn't mean to come off too strong, I just don't want you to believe I'd let you hurt me. You think I'd wanna hurt you?”

Warrick watched in astonishment how the stance turned from control to pained regret in an instance. He rose to his knees besides Nick, reaching out and pulling the man's pained face close to his own. “No Nick, I'm not scared of you, I'm scared for you. Man, you're weird, you snap cold and not hot.”

Nick's eyes widened and with an exaggerated sigh he sank to his side on the bed, like somebody had pulled the plug and drained him of all energy. “You waxing philosophical on me man? I'm too tired for this. Please Rick, hon, let's go to sleep babe.” Hugging the pillow he hid his face in it and Warrick knew instinctively he should shut up right now because he was stepping onto a mined territory without a map. But damned if he was able to let it go.

”You snap cold and I'm not so sure it's even ever over. What I fear is that you'll finally come unglued, man.”

“Even ever over.” Nick chuckled, voice muffled by the pillow. “That's like Pinion pine pollen - say it three times fast.”

Warrick snorted, recognizing the need to flee. “Yeah, Nicky, that's right. Plenty of sand around to stick your head in, right baby?”

“Man, no! No psycho-babble. It's too late!” Nick rolled to his stomach, pulling the pillow over his head. “Warr, trust me, I can take care of myself and if you ever hurt me I'll fricken let you know.”

Silently Warrick laid down by the man's side, rolling over to lay partly over him. “You're a certifiable nut-case man, y'know that, dont'cha?”

“Takes one to know one Rick,” Nick drawled. “I'm fine, you go on these guilt trips way too easily man. I'm not your responsibility. Rick. Let it go already.”

“Okay, Sigmund.”

Nick coughed a laughter and turned to the side, the pillow falling off his face with the motion, revealing a dimpled grin. “Com'ere,” he mumbled and one muscled arm reached out and twined around Warrick's middle, pulling him into the warmth of his body.

Warrick was caught in a strong hold, not strong enough for him to feel any kind of threat, but tight enough for him to realize the truth in Nick's words. He really wouldn't be able to hurt Nick for any period of time before the man would set him straight. The thing that bothered him was the question if the man even wanted to set him straight? “You don't get off on pain, do yah?”

“What's up with you Warr?” Nick groaned and rubbed his chin on Warrick chest. “Do we need this psychoanalyzin' right now?” Lifting his head the dark eyes glittered with mischief. “Wanna have a make-out session instead?”

Warrick couldn't help but laugh. “You on Viagra or something?”

Nick nuzzled his neck, tip of his tongue lapping at the earlobe. “I was just thinking about Hodges an' -”

Warrick flipped the man to his back, pushing a knee in between Nick's legs and pinned him to the mattress. “That's right Nicky. Piss me off and get me horny all over. Then you can kiss Hodges good-bye for good because you're not ever getting out of bed.”

Nick settled more comfortably under him, the soft chuckle sending his body vibrating, and his voice purring. “You're so easy, Rick.”

“You fucking tease! You're gonna have me hard all over.” Warrick groaned at the sensation of his cock rebelling where it lay pressed up to Nick's well-defined thigh-muscle. “I thought you were beat? Wasn't that why I stayed and signed 'em papers in the first place?”

“Aw, Warr ti's not my fault you're so damn hot that I wanna lick you all over,” Nick drawled and easily rolled them so he was on top of Warrick again. “Gimme a minute and we'll start all over.

Warrick rolled his eyes and draped his arms around the man to hold on. Nick was heavy, but damned - it felt fine to have Nick Stokes, the living comforter, pinning him down. At least he knew exactly where the man was at when he was right there, half a sleep on top of him with the head on his shoulder and small puffs of air soothing his skin. “I want you to shut up and bag some z's man. We gotta lay off these fucking squabbling sessions in bed, man.”

“Wha-?” Nick murmured. “Break a well-established bedding routine? No way man, I like routines.”

“Gettin' too complicated s'all,” Warrick replied after a beat, the weariness making him slur slightly.

Nick slowly rolled off him and sprawled himself over the bed, a hand still resting on Warrick's hip. ”Just 'coz' you're not stickin' to 'em.”

“Huh?” Warrick pulled himself up enough to get the covers over their cooling bodies and glared at the man whose mumbles were getting harder and harder to understand.”

“Ah always git the last word.” Nick rubbed his nose against Warrick's shoulder when he settled back down. The exaggerated girly pitch and Texan accent had Warrick grin.

“Awright boss,” Warrick replied and snuggled his hand in under the covers to rest on the smooth skin of Nick's thigh.

Nick lazily rolled to his side and buried his nose in the crook of Warrick's neck. “Cheat,” he mumbled and Warrick knew he'd been had all over. Nick would get the last word as always. He rested his chin on the soft, hair of his main man and let his hand rest along Nick's side. He'd always fall asleep with his hands on Nick.

That was a routine that worked just swell for him; he closed his eyes with a contented sigh.


End file.
